A Stroll Through Republic City
by Raolia
Summary: A collection of one shots about Avatar: The Legend of Korra. Makorra, Borra.
1. Safe

His memories of his father are blurred around the edges; like a water-stained painting, film left out in the sun. But even though Mako can't remember the _exact _shape of his eyes or the proper length of his hair, he remembers being swooped up into long, strong arms, strong enough to encase him in a cot of flesh and bone that the dangers of the world could not penetrate. He was absolutely invulnerable, undoubtably safe. And the red scarf that was a permanent fixture around his father's neck, he would bury his face into, and it smelt like his father and his little pocket of safety, and so Mako began to associate the smell and feel and colour of that red scarf with the one thing that in years to come he would constantly crave; _safety_.

When his parents died, Mako was only bequeathed one thing; a red scarf (though it was not so much _bequeathed_ as _taken_). And he wound it around his neck so that when the going got tough he could just lower his chin, let a familiar scent fill his nose, familiar material rub against his face, familiar red fill his vision, and pretend to be _safe_. It was his one little moment of selfishness; the one thing that was his in it's entirety. He would give Bolin his coat when it was cold, his food when he was hungry, his _life_ if there was _danger_; but the scarf he would not concede to his brother, the person he loved most in the entire world. Because sometimes Mako, who was trying so _hard_ to become that pocket of safety for his brother, needed to feel safe and protected as well; if he didn't, maybe he would crumble. And he couldn't do that to Bolin.

Years passed. His scarf became faded and frayed. His brother grew strong and tall, and Mako's relief was indescribable that Bolin had turned out so well, all things considered. Bolin was strong and healthy and _happy_, and seeing his brother smile was the richest reward he could ever receive after years of hardship on the streets. But they weren't safe, not just yet. They were scraping by, living day to day, a precarious lifestyle, one wrong move or missed rent away from crashing back down the ladder they had tried _so hard_ to scale. So Mako wore his scarf and worked his jobs, and time passed.

Then the Avatar entered their lives, and initially Mako disliked her, because her blue eyes flashed dangerously, her muscles were well defined, her stature was confident and she just bled _not safe_. She was different to the other girls that Bolin tried to charm, because those girls blushed and giggled and tittered and _annoyed_, but this one was energetic and confident and a little bit spoiled. So Mako tried to restrain any possible attachments that the girl could form to the brothers by dismissing her and being cold to her and trying to scare her off and then _whey-hey_, she's the Avatar. The most dangerous person in the world – but also the strongest. Antagonising her wouldn't be the wisest move... but they didn't they had to be _friends._

Then Bolin went missing, and with a tweak of irritation he went to Air Temple Island, where he assumed Bolin had gone, because his brother seemed quite taken with the young Avatar. He wasn't there, though, so Mako set out to search for his younger sibling, _alone_, when -

_'Hey, cool guy – let me help you.'_

Mako had never needed help. He was always the one helping. But her hand clutching his sleeve and those earnest blue eyes... Plus the fact that she had a giant polar bear dog didn't hurt.

He said yes.

They followed the trail and became involved with something that Mako's gut warned him not to get close too _('I can't believe Bolin got himself into this mess!)_. This whole thing was _not safe_. The triads, the Equalists, the _Avatar_-

But then there was a warm hand on his shoulder. People didn't touch him, with the exception of his brother; he wasn't exactly friendly and inviting. He didn't have friends. But this girl was so free and giving with her physical expressions of comfort; first at the island, now here. And the words;

'_Mako. We are going to save your brother. I promise you that._'

He didn't know if he believed her, and her words, however honest they were, couldn't stop the worry that was eating away at him inside, but right now, she was all he had. So he wrapped his scarf around his neck and off they went.

* * *

She pried and pulled and was so clumsy with her words. He snapped at her. But told her the truth. He pulled his scarf over his chin, tried to hide from the pity in her eyes in the smell of well-worn red fabric. And when he woke up beside someone else for the first time in years, his first feeling was of content. Well, before the shock kicked in.

Then puzzles needed to be solved and they tracked Bolin to the Revelation. They needed a disguise, of course; they weren't exactly _unknown_, Korra most of all. While Mako knew the danger he himself was facing, he also knew that the danger Korra was entering into was ten times worse. And although they hadn't known each other too long, and she was bull-headed and spoiled and said the wrong things, he didn't want to think of what would happen to her if she were caught. He wanted her to be safe.

He passed her his scarf.

The first time since his parents demise that he had parted with the scrap of red material. But he wrapped it firmly around her neck so she could pull it over her mouth as he had so many times in the past, and maybe, hopefully, it would keep her safe too.


	2. Pretty

She'd never given much thought to whether or not she was pretty.

She was the Avatar; there were more important things than _hair_ or _make up_ or _walking like a lady._Things like kicking butt and mastering the elements. And she _liked_ how she looked; her tan skin and blue eyes, so proudly Water Tribe. And her muscles, she loved them too; they were physical representations of her strength, her progress, the effort she had put into her bending since she was small. The clothes she wore were comfortable and easy to fight in, and growing up in the same place, surrounded by the same people, she had never had a reason, nor felt the desire, to get all prettied up. She was happy with who she was.

Upon her arrival in Republic City, her confidence, for the first time, was shaken. It was so big and loud and different, almost so much to the point that it scared her a little. But despite the stark contrast of the bustling metropolis to her icy home, she found that she did not miss sun rays bouncing off ice into her eyes and snow crunching beneath her boots. The change thrilled her, and as always, she charged in head first, saving the thinking for later, pushing aside the culture shock. She saw all these new and wonderful things. Same Korra, different backdrop.

And then she met Asami, and she couldn't help the jealousy that stirred in her gut. The young woman was latched onto Mako, but it wasn't that (okay, yeah, maybe it was a little bit) – Asami was slender, and Asami was gorgeous. She was elegant and dainty and a thousand times less awkward then Korra was. While Asami's laugh was a gentle tinker, Korra's was the clang of a gong; Asami glided along like a fox swan and Korra hunkered like a platypus bear. And so for the first time, Korra found herself wishing she had thin arms and a tiny waist and hair that fell in neat waves.

She fiddled self consciously with the little cap on her head, which at the time she thought was kind of cute, but now felt like a beacon that drew attention to her lack of class. Her eyes followed Asami and Mako as they crossed the room. Mako looked maybe a little uncomfortable, but otherwise pretty happy; and Asami smiled at people she knew and complete strangers alike, laughed her tinker of a laugh, and accepted the many, many compliments that came her way with good grace and a light blush. Korra tugged at her dress and tried not to be bothered about the fact that no one had told her that _she_ looked pretty tonight, even thought it was _her_ party.

She didn't realise that someone thought she looked very pretty indeed tonight, but just didn't know how to say it. Which was odd, because Bolin was usually so good with his words...

* * *

**OHDAMN. TWO fics in ONE day? It's the Korra fever, baby.**


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